Jesse's Girl
Page 44
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“Hey, baby girl.”
I look up to find my mother has appeared in the kitchen. She fills the teakettle with water and sets it on the stove.
“So did you do anything interesting yesterday?” she asks with a coy smile, and I give her my look of death. “What’s wrong?”
“It was all going really well…”
When my voice breaks, Mom wraps me in a hug, and her familiar smell of lavender and dryer sheets calms me. There’s no way I can admit that I thought I had a chance with a boy like Jesse Scott. What was I thinking? She pats my back and soothes me.
“This might make you feel better. Something came for you.” Mom releases me from her embrace and passes me a large brown box. The handwritten label reads Maya.
“Where’d this come from?” I ask.
“A messenger dropped it off this morning.”
“A messenger?”
“Yeah, a guy in a fancy town car.”
“Brown paper packages tied up with string, these are a few of my favorite things,” I sing softly, dragging my fingers over the crisp paper.
“Open it already,” Mom says.
I unlace the string, and the paper falls away from the box. With shaking hands, I lift the lid. It’s those purple boots I tried on yesterday. I gasp and trace my fingertips across the soft leather/python/whatever it is.
“Those are beautiful!” Mom says. We’re the same shoe size, and I can tell she’s desperate to put them on and dance around the house to Dolly Parton.
A card sits wedged between the boots.
Dear Maya,
These boots could belong to no one but you. Holly will be in touch to discuss voice lessons. Thanks again for the great day.
—J
Is this a parting gift or a mixed message? I push the card into my back pocket, then open the fridge for a Diet Coke. What did he mean Holly would be in touch to discuss lessons? Does she want me as a client? Because I can’t afford that.
“What’d the card say?” Mom asks. “Anything about how good of a kisser you are?”
“Mom! Were you spying on me?”
“Of course not. Your brother told me.”
“He was spying? Ugh. Sam is the worst.”
She presses a comforting hand to my forearm. “So what happened with Jesse?”
I’m trying to figure out what to tell Mom when a knock sounds on the back door. It’s Hannah. My mother motions my former bandmate—former friend?—inside. Hannah plays with her lip ring and looks at me with big, sad, brown eyes.
“Hey, Maya.”
“Hi.”
The teakettle rattles, hissing and spitting out steam.
Mom pours the hot water over a teabag, then wraps her hands around the cup. “I’ll be in my room.”
“You don’t have to go,” I say, because I don’t want to talk to Hannah. Especially not alone. I’m afraid I’ll want to yank the extensions out of her hair or worse, cry.
With a smile, Mom takes her tea and leaves the room, and then it’s just me and Hannah. I lead her to the couch in the living room. Why is she here? I lean my head back, close my eyes, and sigh.
“Bad day?” she asks.
“Not the best.” Most kids would probably love the attention I got from the press this morning, and truthfully, normally I would too, but it only reminds me that Jesse left me last night.
“I figured your day would be going pretty great since you hung out with Jesse Scott yesterday.” Hannah smiles shyly. “Are you gonna see him again?”
Does she not care that I sold out? I ignore her question, because I’m still really upset at how last night ended. “What are you doing here?”
Hannah sits on the edge of the couch and ruffles her dark chestnut hair. I want her to leave so I can practice. And listen to a bunch of sappy eighties love ballads. And maybe eat a bag of Cheetos.
“You haven’t been answering my texts or calls,” she says. “I need to talk to you.”
“So talk.”
“I’m sorry for what happened—I had no idea Nate wanted to replace you.”
“Why didn’t you say anything when he kicked me out?”
“I was shocked, honestly, and I had just gotten together with Nate and didn’t want to piss him off. I was confused, I guess. I know I should’ve spoken up.”
“Well, it’s too late now.”
“Maybe it’s not.”
“Huh?”
A smile appears on her face. “I told the guys that unless they get rid of that dickwad Bryan Moore and bring you back as lead guitar, I’m quitting. Nate has been trying to reach you too.”
I look up to find my mother has appeared in the kitchen. She fills the teakettle with water and sets it on the stove.
“So did you do anything interesting yesterday?” she asks with a coy smile, and I give her my look of death. “What’s wrong?”
“It was all going really well…”
When my voice breaks, Mom wraps me in a hug, and her familiar smell of lavender and dryer sheets calms me. There’s no way I can admit that I thought I had a chance with a boy like Jesse Scott. What was I thinking? She pats my back and soothes me.
“This might make you feel better. Something came for you.” Mom releases me from her embrace and passes me a large brown box. The handwritten label reads Maya.
“Where’d this come from?” I ask.
“A messenger dropped it off this morning.”
“A messenger?”
“Yeah, a guy in a fancy town car.”
“Brown paper packages tied up with string, these are a few of my favorite things,” I sing softly, dragging my fingers over the crisp paper.
“Open it already,” Mom says.
I unlace the string, and the paper falls away from the box. With shaking hands, I lift the lid. It’s those purple boots I tried on yesterday. I gasp and trace my fingertips across the soft leather/python/whatever it is.
“Those are beautiful!” Mom says. We’re the same shoe size, and I can tell she’s desperate to put them on and dance around the house to Dolly Parton.
A card sits wedged between the boots.
Dear Maya,
These boots could belong to no one but you. Holly will be in touch to discuss voice lessons. Thanks again for the great day.
—J
Is this a parting gift or a mixed message? I push the card into my back pocket, then open the fridge for a Diet Coke. What did he mean Holly would be in touch to discuss lessons? Does she want me as a client? Because I can’t afford that.
“What’d the card say?” Mom asks. “Anything about how good of a kisser you are?”
“Mom! Were you spying on me?”
“Of course not. Your brother told me.”
“He was spying? Ugh. Sam is the worst.”
She presses a comforting hand to my forearm. “So what happened with Jesse?”
I’m trying to figure out what to tell Mom when a knock sounds on the back door. It’s Hannah. My mother motions my former bandmate—former friend?—inside. Hannah plays with her lip ring and looks at me with big, sad, brown eyes.
“Hey, Maya.”
“Hi.”
The teakettle rattles, hissing and spitting out steam.
Mom pours the hot water over a teabag, then wraps her hands around the cup. “I’ll be in my room.”
“You don’t have to go,” I say, because I don’t want to talk to Hannah. Especially not alone. I’m afraid I’ll want to yank the extensions out of her hair or worse, cry.
With a smile, Mom takes her tea and leaves the room, and then it’s just me and Hannah. I lead her to the couch in the living room. Why is she here? I lean my head back, close my eyes, and sigh.
“Bad day?” she asks.
“Not the best.” Most kids would probably love the attention I got from the press this morning, and truthfully, normally I would too, but it only reminds me that Jesse left me last night.
“I figured your day would be going pretty great since you hung out with Jesse Scott yesterday.” Hannah smiles shyly. “Are you gonna see him again?”
Does she not care that I sold out? I ignore her question, because I’m still really upset at how last night ended. “What are you doing here?”
Hannah sits on the edge of the couch and ruffles her dark chestnut hair. I want her to leave so I can practice. And listen to a bunch of sappy eighties love ballads. And maybe eat a bag of Cheetos.
“You haven’t been answering my texts or calls,” she says. “I need to talk to you.”
“So talk.”
“I’m sorry for what happened—I had no idea Nate wanted to replace you.”
“Why didn’t you say anything when he kicked me out?”
“I was shocked, honestly, and I had just gotten together with Nate and didn’t want to piss him off. I was confused, I guess. I know I should’ve spoken up.”
“Well, it’s too late now.”
“Maybe it’s not.”
“Huh?”
A smile appears on her face. “I told the guys that unless they get rid of that dickwad Bryan Moore and bring you back as lead guitar, I’m quitting. Nate has been trying to reach you too.”
